


On Edge

by Ljósfari (Ljosfari)



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Stream of Consciousness, i have thinky thoughts about mara and had to put them on paper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 12:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21338053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljosfari/pseuds/Lj%C3%B3sfari
Summary: ""Sjur," Mara said, falling to her knees, clutching her beloved's face between shaking hands, "Sjur, on the day you worship me, you cannot love me anymore, for to worship is to yield all power, and I cannot love what has no power over me.""— Telic II
Relationships: Mara Sov/Petra Venj, Sjur Eido/Mara Sov
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	On Edge

Petra already worships Mara. Not as a goddess, but as a person, as the queen she’s sworn to serve. That much is clear in the way she looks at Mara when standing guard in her throne room — stolen longing gazes while she’s scanning the area for threats. In the way her breath hitches when she says “my Queen”. In the absolute, ecstatic reverence of her kisses when they make love.

Mara feels like a wretch, taking advantage of her power, yet she cannot quit Petra. There is something in her that defies Mara’s judgement, that warms her heart even when it shouldn’t.

She might be Queen, but her Wrath has a certain power over her that she does not know (or does not want to know) about. 

That’s why Mara loves her, knowing well how foolish it is. Yet, was not she a fool already when she fell in love with the woman that intended to kill her?

The memory of Sjur — strong, resolute, brave Sjur — was still present, an open wound in Mara’s heart and an inescapable shadow over Petra, heavy with what-ifs and if-onlys for both of them. Struck from out of the blue, a miserly weregild as insult to injury, the Queen’s Wrath was gone, leaving sorrow in her wake, the ghosts of the Queen’s ragged wails echoing through the halls of the Dreaming City. 

No Wish could bring her back.

For Petra, all of her worth — as the Queen’s right hand, as her confidant, as her lover — was measured to an impossible yardstick, the golden memory of a legend on her own right. Inadequacy bitter as poison, lingering in her mouth after the mead-sweet taste of her knighting had worn off. This was irrational, she knew — puerile jealousy — yet she could not escape it.

Not that Mara would ever dare to compare the two. Petra had burrowed her way into her heart by her own merits alone — warm, strong, naturally charming and personable outside of the rigid codes of Court. Even her deference was spontaneous.

Yes: Worship, submission, was the language in which Petra spoke her love, by deeds in Mara’s name, by putting her life and her heart in Mara’s hands, by faithfully serving her ladyship. And by making Petra privy to her secrets, her depths, the doubts and second-guesses that came with queenship, her sorrow and her joy, Mara had put a knife on Petra’s hand, turned the tip to her own heart, and trusted her Wrath not to sink the blade between her ribs.

Mara could not love what had no power over her, so she put her life on the edge of Petra’s blade.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my drafts since forever, and I wanted to make it part of something more coherent, maybe even a multichapter fic. However, I had many assorted drafts and sketches and no direction, and this didn't fit anywhere, so I'm posting it as a drabble. Let's see if ending the dry spell helps me get my mojo back. Feedback is extremely appreciated. 
> 
> Jesus, it's hard to write Mara.


End file.
